


When the Coffee Blooms

by odoridango



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Allura (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Beta Keith (Voltron), Beta Shiro (Voltron), First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Major Allurance, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Lance (Voltron), surprise theres no sex!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26471482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odoridango/pseuds/odoridango
Summary: Keith fulfills his destiny as the beta buddy in an epic alpha-omega romance. At least he's got common sense and Shiro on his side.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 110





	When the Coffee Blooms

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to The Beta AgendaTM.

Keith and Lance’s coexistence in the coffee shop was tenuous, and pretty new. Lance was dramatic, paid close attention to appearances and social trends, talked a lot, postured a lot. It wasn’t that Keith couldn’t understand or sympathize with struggling against social norms and conformity. In fact, he nursed a grudging respect for Lance’s purpose in being aggressively omega, especially when the world seemed out to prove that knothead alphas were everywhere, including in their shop.

But he still greatly preferred if Lance could do all that away from his workplace. The choking flurry of pheromones that lingered afterward were strong enough to send him home with a headache, too much for his sensitive nose. After all, controlling and regulating one’s scent was _unnatural_ , even when ventilation and sociology studies had long shown that scent regulation reduced aggression and anxiety in group settings and made for more amiable social relationships.

Lance took Keith’s reaction to his chatter and antics badly and only dialed things up and in Keith’s direction, making snipes and passive aggressive comments whenever he could. They’d only come to an understanding after having a shrieking row during closing time, and Hunk, their mutual friend, spent a lot of time mediating between them, clearing the air. No, Keith did not give a single crap that Lance was an omega, he did not think Lance should stop rightfully mouthing off to asshole customers, he did not think Lance was a slut or too outspoken. He was just a guy with a really sensitive nose whose life and health were being significantly affected by Lance’s decisions in the shop – and being a true beta with a highly reactive endocrine system, that was just the start of it, but Keith didn’t feel the need to plaster his health record everywhere.

Even so, they’d at least begun to have more casual conversations during their shifts together. After a while, Keith could maybe even call the two of them friends. This was all upended with one casual sweep of an alpha’s silky silver hair as she glided into the coffee shop one morning. Her friend was nothing to sniff at either, bearing a fit silhouette, a kind smile, and carefully styled bangs that fell charmingly into his eyes, but he was just as taken aback as Keith was when Lance, who usually took care of the register, made his interest more overt than usual, plastering on a winning smile and starting off the conversation with, “Well, isn’t it a _lovely_ morning?"

Lucky for him, she seemed reluctantly charmed, rather than repelled, and left with a shy wave, her friend sipping contentedly at his cortado. Based on the names they’d been given for their drinks, the alpha’s name was probably Allura, and her friend’s, Shiro. Lance spent the next several hours at work singing Allura’s praises, regaling Keith with grandiose pronouncements of how gorgeous she was, how effortlessly commanding and charming, how good she smelled, and how much he wanted to meet her again.

“You’re not worried she’ll end up being a complete knothead?” Keith asked skeptically. Being scent sensitive, Keith had always been more interested in the individual perception of scents than the people behind them – why some people said cedar and tobacco smelled alpha, and clean laundry and fresh flowers smelled omega, and betas got things like moss and sea salt. No one smelled great to him when they weren’t keeping themselves under control, they smelled about as pleasant as a too-old, mothbitten bag of potpourri. He wasn’t even sure why Lance had chosen to talk to him about it. “I mean, you’ve only met her once.”

“It’s gonna totally be worth it,” Lance dismissed with a flap of his hand, “And if it turns out that she doesn’t live in the 21st century like the rest of us and can’t take an omega making the first moves, then I can find out sooner rather than later. Win-win.”

But it wasn’t a win-win, because it turned out Allura and Shiro had just moved closer to this side of the city, putting The Beanery squarely on their morning commute. Soon enough, Lance was flirting horribly with her every morning, loud and stinking up the air with a targeted scent enhancer. Even worse, Allura was amused by the attention and genuinely seemed to like Lance’s easy conversational style. Lance took to taking her order and immediately scurrying off to put her drink together with care, chattering to her from behind the espresso machine, ditching Keith with the register and Shiro.

“Is he always like this?” was the first thing Shiro ever asked him, bemused. Like Keith, his resting scent had a studiously messy top note, muzzy and blank like part of it had evaporated, a clear sign that he was using scent dampeners. As he walked up to the counter, he brought with him a pocket of brighter, cleaner air, always a relief in a place that served so many people each day. Public places required scent filtration in their HVAC systems, but it wasn’t that effective, and since Keith had gotten old enough to be put on dampeners, he’d found them to shield his delicate nose better than anything else. It was rare to find someone else on dampeners with pheromone sensitivity still being an underrecognized issue, but Keith tried not to get his hopes up. Just using dampeners didn’t mean Shiro would be a true beta, like him. It was always perfectly possible that Shiro was an alpha or omega suffering endocrine dysfunction, or an alpha- or omega-positive beta. 

“I mean, obnoxious is kind of his default setting, but he’s definitely dialed it up since he met your friend,” Keith divulged with a mighty sigh, resetting the point-of-sale system.

Shiro caught his gaze with a piercing, deep brown stare, mouth twisting to the side. “…is he serious?” he asked.

Startled, Keith blinked and tapped thoughtful fingers atop the cashbox. “He might be,” he replied slowly, marveling at the way those eyes seemed to pull the honesty right out of his throat, not that Keith wasn’t usually plainspoken anyway. “He’s not a bad guy. He just knows what he wants and is willing to go after it. Some assholes aren’t okay with that, so he tends to come on strong.”

Shiro grinned at that. “What do you know,” he said, “My friend’s a little like that too. Hope you don’t get sick of us.”

“As long as you pay for your drinks, I won’t,” Keith replied dryly, getting a laugh in return.

From these short talks, Keith learned that Allura and Shiro’s respective offices were about a five-minute walk from the coffee shop and their morning commutes were less than forty-five minutes during rush hour. Probability, urban density, and public transportation made it likely that any of them might happen upon each other in the street, yet he was still surprised to see Shiro and Allura standing in his and Lance’s usual sandwich shop at lunchtime. Allura and Lance’s orders even got mixed up, and Allura offered to swap her chips as well.

“I heard you two talking,” she said, a polite way of saying that Lance and Keith had been arguing about chip flavors loudly enough for the entire shop to hear, “And I believe you would like this chip flavor better, no? The one you have happens to be my favorite.”

While Lance blushed and flustered his way to a successful chip trade, Shiro laughed at the sharpie letters on Keith’s brown paper bag and showed Keith his receipt – they’d ordered the same sandwich, though Keith had asked for extra pickles.

“She notices me,” Lance said dreamily in the break room, mustard dotting the side of his mouth.

“But she likes my chip flavor better,” Keith pointed out, throwing paper napkins at his coworker. “Just admit it, Voodoo Heat’s the best.”

Lance scowled at him, plucked at a napkin that had landed on his shirt, and gave a haughty sniff. “It’s gross and a mistake. A flaw, but a miniscule one, otherwise Allura’s perfection would be too much for the universe to contain.”

However, her perfection seemed to be perfectly containable in the baking aisle of the supermarket, where Keith and Lance were scrounging for the ingredients needed to make a surprise birthday cake for Hunk, while also looking for snacks. Naturally, Lance and Allura had grabbed for the same bag of marshmallows, and Lance being Lance, he’d clung onto her hand harder in surprise before noticing what he was doing. As he and Allura awkwardly stumbled their way into casual conversation, Lance offroaded into a loud proclamation of Hunk’s many virtues, something Keith wholeheartedly approved of. Allura seemed to be watching Lance’s face closely, and Keith felt very keenly that he and Shiro had been momentarily forgotten and turned into the reluctant chaperones of yesteryear. He sidled over to Shiro, hoping to feel a little solidarity. No point in being subtle when both of them were being treated like window dressing.

Shiro gave him a quick, half-hearted grin in greeting. “Hey, fancy seeing you here. We didn’t even get the brownie mix yet…”

Keith bumped him with a companionable elbow. “Hey yourself. If it helps, looks like the mix is on sale?” he offered, and the two of them fell in step together as they moved toward the double chocolate chip mix. 

“I better stock up on these,” Shiro sighed, giving Allura and Lance a baleful glance before tossing four boxes of the mix, indeed on sale, into the battered basket hanging on his elbow. “By the way, your name is Keith, right? We’ve met each other outside the café enough times now that I feel like I should introduce myself properly.” He then extended a hand and a cheeky smile, as if Keith could resist the dimpling of his right cheek. Shiro’s fingers were warm and dry, calloused along the palm. “I’m Takashi Shirogane. Thanks for chaperoning Allura with me.”

“With Lance’s everything, I should be thanking you and Allura for your patience,” Keith snorted. “Keith Kogane.”

In the end, he and Shiro left Lance and Allura chatting in the baking aisle and went off to gather the rest of the items on their respective grocery lists. They were still talking when Keith and Shiro returned with everything they needed, and Shiro almost dropped his basket when the slight whiff of pheromones wafted their way. The growing physical chemistry, it seemed, was undeniable. Shiro glanced at Keith like he expected him to comment on his sensitivity or ask about his gender, but Keith had had enough of that particular brand of unnecessary comment to last him a lifetime, and it was already clear that they were both sensitive enough to need dampeners. Instead, Keith just wrinkled his nose and tapped the side of it, agreeing with Shiro’s distaste. For Lance and Allura to be putting off such strong signals of attraction this early was a great sign for them, but could mean many headaches in Shiro and Keith’s future, especially if their courting took a long time.

Per his usual pattern, Lance kept waxing lyrical about Allura even as they baked through the night in Lance’s apartment, where his roommate Pidge was away for an extended hackathon. “I’ve met a lot of alphas in my time, Keith,” Lance said sagely, running the dry ingredients through a sifter, “But I’m telling you, Allura’s different. Like even the body language. She’s so….so…”

“Controlled?” Keith suggested from where he was watching over the standup mixer, whisking eggs. It was something he’d noticed from that first day – of the many emotional articulation curricula that weren’t uniformly taught, body language was yet another, and alphas were most often at fault for not properly mediating their emotional responses and preventing spillover to others. Allura, however, moved with a lot of grace and a pronounced sense of proprioception, like she knew where each limb was at all times and consciously kept it that way. That was rare, for an alpha. Keith had mostly seen controlled body language manifesting in social workers, well-trained teachers, medical professionals, and in omegas and omega-positive betas in unstable situations who were desperate to mediate outside threats. And of course, neutral beta socialization involved recognizing and understanding body language, so betas who fit the conventional mold tended to have more controlled movements as well.

“Yeah, exactly!” Lance said with a firm nod, readying a cooking pan to roast hazelnuts in. With a flick of the wrist, he turned the stove on. “I don’t feel threatened around her at all. It’s kind of nice sometimes to have a meathead alpha, big and strong and beefy, but I can’t relax around that type one hundred percent because I feel like they’re always so macho, you know? Always gotta worry if they think that a knot or a bite’s not a big deal, or if they’ll try to have everything their way. It’s like the size of the muscles is compensation for the tininess of their brains. But then you have the type of alpha that compensates for everything, when alphas are already trying to compensate for one thing or another and it’s just so…ew. No one likes the smell of desperation. But Allura….she’s just so put together, you know? I feel like she really listens to me and engages with me.”

“That’s good,” Keith replied sincerely, unsure of what other feedback to offer. He slowly began to add the brown sugar to the eggs. “You can ask her out tomorrow.”

To his surprise, Lance’s mouth tightened, and he shifted from foot to foot uneasily. “…I don’t know,” he said slowly, uncertainly. “It hasn’t been that long. Give it more time, you know?”

Keith frowned, thinking of the scents that Lance and Allura had been giving off in the store. Then again, Lance likely couldn’t smell the unconscious signals they had been given each other, and biological signs weren’t the be all end all of decisionmaking anyway. But he would’ve thought that Lance would jump at the chance to ask for a date; it was certainly what Keith would do if he saw a glimmer of mutual interest. “Not to be an asshole, but she and Shiro have been coming around for over two months now. Why not?”

“We do see each other every day….but do we really know each other?” Lance asked quietly, nudging around the slowly roasting hazelnuts, the rich, toasty smell already beginning to fill the tiny kitchen. “It’s just chatting for a couple minutes each day. We’ve barely met outside of the café.”

Thus jinxed, it seemed only appropriate that Lance and Keith would run into Allura and Shiro yet again that weekend at the local park. Training for an upcoming half-marathon they planned to run with Hunk and Pidge, it was toward the end of their fifth loop of the park trails that Shiro and Allura materialized on one of the benches, bundled in fluffy scarves, warm sweaters, and wool coats. 

“Keith, Lance,” Shiro greeted with some surprise, the pompom topping his beanie bobbing as he held up a hand to wave. “Hey.”

Keith squinted at the coffee cup clutched in Shiro’s hand, definitely not from his shop. His long fingers and short, clean cut nails were showcased by fingerless knit gloves. “Shiro, are you coffee-cheating on us?”

Allura snickered at Shiro’s surprised blinking, prompting a small, besotted smile to come to Lance’s face. The slight simmer of his affection wafted lightly from his skin, warm and eager. Shiro gave him a quick glance before fixing his eyes on the incriminating coffee cup cradled in his hand. “I’m…just confirming the superiority of The Beanery,” he said remarkably smoothly, and tacked on a winning smile.

“Nice cover,” Keith deadpanned. He was interrupted by a loud bark as his wolfdog barreled toward them, circling Keith and Lance and snuffling concernedly at Keith’s palm. She had been running ahead during the jog and evidently wondered where her humans had gone. Hopefully no one would give him crap about her running leashless through the park. “Aw, bud.” Keith crouched down to rub her generously about the ears.

Allura was utterly delighted, coffee cup clutched tightly between her hands. “You have a dog? What’s their name?”

Lance cleared his throat, as if to remind people he was there. “Her name’s Red,” he announced, reaching down and scratching her chin. “She’s big but she’s a puppy on the inside. She’s real friendly.” Keith scowled; Red was _his_ dog. But he’d let Lance have this just once. The sooner he could ask Allura out, the better. It seemed to be working, what with the way Lance was guiding Allura to pet Red’s favorite spots and starting to chat with her about their jogging routines.

Catching Shiro’s amused look and the pointed glance he gave to Red’s deep, bluish-gray fur as he gave her chin scritches, Keith scowled harder. “I was reading an article out loud the day I brought her home from the shelter and she started barking whenever I said ‘red’ and it just stuck,” he muttered defensively.

“I didn’t say anything,” Shiro replied, grinning and taking a sip of his betrayal espresso. “But as long as she likes it. That’s a very you thing to do.”

Keith couldn’t tell exactly what his face was doing aside from heating up. How exactly did Shiro define a Keith thing? And did he mean to say it so fondly on purpose? Did that mean Shiro liked Keith things?

“You want to trade numbers?” Keith murmured hoarsely, half regretting the words as they dropped out of his own mouth. Damn that right dimple. “You know…so we can keep an eye on Lance and Allura’s whole…thing.”

He hoped his feelings weren’t leaking into the scent environment like Allura’s and Lance’s were. Each time they met, Lance’s scent bloomed and absolutely blanketed the area, and Allura responded in kind, softening more and more quickly with every meeting. She appreciated the overbearing attention, the close consideration Lance paid her, and Lance swooned over her affectionate gestures, her competency, and grounding no-nonsense attitude.

Shiro’s grin took on a more mischievous, if nervous, edge, his gaze darting away. “You know, that’s the most true beta thing anyone’s ever asked me,” he said, taking his phone out of a pocket. “Never thought I’d get to the beta buddy stage of life.”

Keith was definitely blushing now, and he willed his scent to remain stable as he warmed from the inside out. Shiro was deeming him safe enough to share his gender with, saying that he trusted Keith not to do him wrong. “Me neither,” Keith admitted, opening his own lockscreen and starting a new contact. “Mediate or perish, I guess. The true beta screed.”

“Damn those neutral betas for skewing our reputation and saddling us with these responsibilities,” Shiro said solemnly, exchanging his phone for Keith’s. “Now everyone thinks if we don’t mediate we’re a waste of space.”

“Down with beta essentialism or whatever,” Keith agreed as he put in his number, struggling to tamp down his growing smile, the glow of happiness. “We exist even if there are no alphas or omegas around.”

As they handed their phones back to each other, the brush of Shiro’s fingers seemed to linger on his hand, and the prolonged eye contact seemed all the more significant now that they were on the same baseline. Shiro’s nostrils were flaring, just as Keith’s were, though it was unlikely that either of them would smell anything at this point, what with dampeners and scent regulation. The sense of gravity only lessened once Shiro looked down at his new contact, mouth quirked in a corner, and quickly typed out a message. The chirp of the notification leapt along with Keith’s pounding heart.

_Now we can be beta buddies too! :D_

Glancing up, Shiro eagerly looked between Keith’s face and his phone, offering a hopeful smile. With a deliberately slow smirk, Keith drew out his response as much as he could, before pressing send and hearing the vibration of Shiro’s phone.

_That’s not how the trope works and you know it. But sure._

Shiro’s guffaw was fantastic positive reinforcement for what little extraversion Keith could muster up. Shiro had a full-bodied laugh, loud and unrestrained, joy written into every line of his face. “This,” he said, still chuckling, waving his phone at Keith, “This is also a very you thing.”

So it seemed a Keith thing was a good thing after all.

Lance and Allura met accidentally several times after that, meetings Keith heard about at The Beanery during downtime, or secondhand through Shiro. Once, Lance spent several hours helping Allura search for an heirloom earring from her father she thought she’d dropped on her way back from lunch. They’d found the earring hanging from the shoulder placket of her trench coat sometime after the second hour mark, laughed it off, and gone to the local taco truck afterward, where Lance had insisted on ordering for her. They talked late into the night, washing down their dinner churros and chocolate with sips of Topo Chico. Another time, Lance and Pidge had a nasty row over roommate etiquette and hygiene that quickly descended into gendered insults and disparaging personal comments that ended with Lance storming outside to wander the streets and cool off, only to be caught in a sudden storm.

 _Guess who’s in our apartment_ , Shiro had texted Keith, attaching a photo of a sad, scraggly, sodden version of Lance, dripping all over an aged sofa with floral upholstery more befitting of 18th century curtains. _Allura growled at me when I tried to give him a sweatshirt :(_

 _Good luck with that._ _How’s the scent environment?_

 _Eau de PLEASE go out with me_ , Shiro replied, with extra sparkle emoticons. _I’m going to have to open all the windows when we head out for work tomorrow._

 _The pining is always the worst stage, scentwise_. _It’s that whole “advertise, attract, accept” scent theory or whatever. We’re still in the first two stages I guess._

 _Ugh I hate how the theory sounds but it’s also true most of the time. I just want them to be happy…but I also want them to hurry up!!!_ Somehow the letters were already sagging from exhaustion.

_Please tell them that. Just go up to Allura and Lance and say that._

_KEITH NO Allura might actually bury me she knows all my secrets_

_rip Shiro faithful beta buddy he tried really hard_

_gold star I tried I am trying I am super accomplish please give me four ristretto shots in my espresso tomorrow otherwise I won’t last_

_better you than me. bring your vacuum mug I got you._

_you suck but also thanks <3 _

_< 3 _

Keith did make Shiro the four ristretto shots he promised the next morning, but not before tormenting himself with thoughts like, _the hearts were SO not platonic_ , _he started it!_ , _but dimples_ , _he’s cute_ , and most importantly, _OH NO_. All he actually said when handing Shiro back his mug was, “Here. For your classic beta dilemma.”

“It’s your classic beta dilemma too, Keith,” Shiro said, with a raised eyebrow. “And with Lance here, you get half of it for the rest of the day.”

Keith glanced at Lance and Allura where they were still chatting over the register, their combined scents of attraction and desire thicker by the day. Lance was even standing near a vent, though it didn’t seem to be having any effect. It was lucky that Shiro and Allura had come by early to drop off Lance for his shift. “So I’m guessing no one asked anyone out?”

Shiro sighed as if he was trying to expunge the soul from his body. “No. Unfortunately, no. They did fall asleep next to each other on the couch though.”

“I guess that’s progress,” Keith said, propping his head on his hand. “As long as this doesn’t affect the scent environment for the morning rush, I’ll call it a win.”

Luckily, the HVAC filtration had enough time to work its magic. Keith didn’t detect any out of ordinary aggression, agitation, or discomfort from any of their customers during morning rush and was grateful for it. He’d seen fights break out in the shop before because of pheromones lingering in the scent environment, and while he knew how to handle them, he preferred not to have to. The time an alpha had gotten careless and sunk into rut while waiting in line was bad enough that they’d had to shut down the café for two days to let the pheromones dissipate. Kolivan and Antok hadn’t been pleased about it, because of the forced business closure and because Keith had been sent into alpha sympatico himself, confined at home for several days and giving his mother a tough time with his sudden territorial displays.

What the ventilation couldn’t disperse were the fretful thoughts that had plagued Lance while he was at Allura’s, and he turned to Keith as a sounding board. “I hate that I’m still thinking about what Pidge said,” he muttered, tired and rumpled, looking down at the oat milk he was steaming. “‘Cause I know that I wasn’t wrong in asking them to pick up after themself, especially after such a long tech binge and not having done any of the chores we said we’d split up. But it’s also really, really frustrating to be told that I’m overcompensating all the time. That they think I’m just some kind of mega-O when I ask them to do stuff. Like hello, haven’t we lived with each other for over a year already? Think you’d have a better read on me than that.”

Keith glanced at him from where he was dialing in his current set of espresso shots. He bit his lip, unsure that he was the right person to be talking to Lance about this. “Well…what exactly did Pidge say?”

Lance laughed humorlessly, tilting a to-go cup in his hand and carefully layering in the milk. “That I overcompensate for being an omega so much that I make mega-Os look like caricatures. And that I do it ‘cause I’m insecure and want attention.” He carefully pushed the cup forward on the service counter. “Macchiato with oat milk!”

Keith frowned, pouring his shots into to-go cups and checking the receipts lining the top of the espresso machine. He stuck a swizzle stick in the cup that had a pool of condensed milk at the bottom, mixing rapidly. “You do come on strong, but that seems harsh.”

“The annoying thing is that they’re partially right, which is what makes it hard to stop thinking about the other stuff,” Lance replied as he poured whole milk into two steamer cups, sliding one down to Keith before steaming his own. “I _do_ like attention, and I _am_ insecure, so what. Not like everyone else doesn’t feel the same way. Anyone who’s gone through the hell of dating apps would get me.”

Keith had never been interested in dating apps and probably wouldn’t ever be. “So is it the insecurity stuff that you don’t like about what they said? Or being called a mega-O?”

“Both, Keith!” Lance said, drawing a latte rosette with quick, irritated strokes. “It’s both! I wouldn’t overcompensate if I wasn’t insecure but I’m like that because people think omegas behave a certain way and if you do act like that you’re a mega-O and if you don’t act like that you’re a strong, modern omega but also people don’t like it. And then it’s all ‘I’m not like those other omegas’ and solidarity gets thrown out the window. You can’t satisfy _anyone_. So you know, fuck it. _Fuck_. Fuck this.” His nose ducked lightly into the funnel neck of the borrowed magenta hoodie he’d been dropped off in, the one emblazoned with Allura’s name across the shoulders.

“Pretty much,” Keith agreed, finishing off his own rosette with a flourish. He pushed his and Lance’s finished drinks to the service counter. “One spanish latte and one regular latte! What I mean is, why not. Fuck that. You said you’re insecure because you don’t know what people expect, right? Then don’t give a crap about what they expect. I can’t speak for anyone but myself, but if you’re an omega, and you act a certain a way, then that’s just how an omega acts.”

Lance stared at him as he emptied the portafilters out into the discards bin with several loud clangs, gathering the finished order receipts and used steam cups. “Wow, Keith,” he said, rinsing the cups, “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at once. You sure drank your respect omega juice today. But it’s not that easy to just stop caring about what people expect or think about you.”

“I work with you close to every day,” Keith said, wiping the filters clean then resetting one under the grinder. “And I don’t expect anything from you.”

“Hey!” Lance whirled around and tried to snap a tea towel at him. “I thought you were being nice to me!”

“Hunk doesn’t expect anything from you either,” Keith continued blithely, dodging. “You’re just here and you’re gonna be Lance, and that’s it.”

“I’m just gonna exist, that’s what you’re saying is the solution to my problems,” Lance huffed, checking the extant receipts once more before ducking down to gather ingredients. “Somehow I’m just gonna change my entire worldview overnight.”

“Yeah,” Keith said, shrugging, brushing at the edges of the filter before pushing down with the tamp. “I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. But like, think about Hunk. He doesn’t expect anything from you except you. You guys are best friends, right? He doesn’t really have anything he wants from you aside from company. Not really any expectations there. Think of it like that.”

“So I need to swap out my entire social circle?” Lance asked dryly, prepping the steam cups for another round.

“No, but I think you should take a look at the people around you, who you spend a lot of time with, and think about what they actually expect from you,” Keith said, retrieving some demitasse cups and Libbey shot glasses. “And if they’re demanding something you don’t like, if you can, talk to them about or maybe stop hanging around them. That’s why you like Allura, right? You said that you think she listens to you and stuff.”

Keith pretended he couldn’t see Lance’s nose dipping down into the hoodie again, obviously drawing comfort from Allura’s scent. They worked in silence for some moments, churning out the remaining drinks in queue until there were no more orders to make, just cleanup and restock left to do in the mid-afternoon lull.

“I do like Allura,” Lance said, intently wiping down the espresso machine. “Because she doesn’t seem to expect anything extra from or of me. She listens and responds with advice. She’s just….she’s really impressive. Really great. She gave me her phone number last night.”

Keith frowned from where he was refilling the grinder. “I don’t really get why you don’t ask her out. You’ve literally aired out your interest for weeks, and you sound comfortable with each other. From what I can tell, she likes you too.”

Lance’s scent soured as he moved on to the counter, wiping it down. “…I’ll think about it,” was all he said.

In Keith’s opinion, thinking about it was just going to make it worse. Lance’s insecurities might have been deep seated, but based on everything Lance and Shiro were telling him, Allura liked him just fine and didn’t want anything aside from getting to know him even better. She’d already weathered the initial Lance experience, and that was generally the hardest part to get through. Their scents had been concentrated enough to break through the dampeners for weeks now, and if things kept escalating, then he and Shiro really would have to figure out some sort of damage control, if only for their own sakes. 

“Can they really not smell…” Keith hissed at Shiro over the register, waving his hand frantically in the air. Shiro and Allura had timed their coffee break for the afternoon lull, and thankfully there were few others inside the shop. Most of the customers who’d opted to take their espresso for here were enjoying the sunny advantages of outdoor seating. Good for them; where Lance and Allura were chatting over the espresso machine, it was like a scent bomb had gone off. Up until now, Keith had refrained from taking out the mechanical fan that had been purchased after the alpha rut incident for moments precisely like these, where the scent environment was being saturated. He hadn’t wanted to shame Lance or make him feel bad about his feelings. A relationship with Allura seemed like it would be good for him, make him happier and more confident. But in the end, Keith was watching over the café until Kolivan and Antok returned from their months-long second honeymoon, and he didn’t want to have them come back to a closed shop because of yet another scent-related incident.

“As I’ve learned, no, they really can’t,” said Shiro, long suffering, smelling of stress and looking of sleeplessness. Uncharacteristically, he was dressed down in a soft looking black band tee with gnarling, incomprehensible letters across the chest. The short sleeves revealed that his right arm was partially prosthetic, all clean, matte black metal plating starting from mid-bicep, soft-touch silicone across the palm and fingers. “In the past I asked a couple other friends and family about what they can and can’t smell, thresholds, things like that. I asked Allura too, and two of our friends who are alpha-positive beta and neutral beta. They really aren’t as sensitive as we are. They couldn’t smell the dampeners I was using.”

“If this keeps going, I’m really gonna end up with migraines,” Keith huffed, jabbing Shiro’s usual order into the register. “This is exactly why scent regulation and full spectrum gender curriculum should be mandatory. This is bullshit. You getting a pastry today?”

“Could I get the almond croissant? Thanks. You can keep the change.” Shiro handed over a ten, stuffing some spare dollar bills and coins in the tip jar. “If scent and gender curriculum were more widespread, it would definitely make people’s lives easier. I was really sick as a kid. Add sensory overstimulation and sympathy heat and rut to that…”

Keith winced as they moved over to the espresso machine together, wrinkling his nose as they wandered into Lance and Allura’s vicinity. He felt a lurch in his gut that had him pursing his lips, and he lowered his voice. “You get both? That’s real rough. I have to get pads and compression tops and stuff but when it comes to alpha sympatico I get really fighty and territorial.”

Shiro crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, watching as Lance and Allura wandered toward a table together. “I’ve been told that I’m aggressive in any sympatico state,” he said ruefully, just as quiet. “But it would have been good to know what was happening earlier. They thought the scent reactions were a part of my illness, so when I kept going into sympatico even after I’d been treated, they thought I hadn’t gotten better. Wasn’t until I went to the endocrinologist that I found out what was going on.”

“Same actually,” Keith replied, fussing at the grinder, “Up until I got a proper endocrine panel I had no idea what was going on with me and neither did anyone else. Sounds like we would have both been spared a lot of grief if everyone else got the memo.” He looked up as he tamped the grounds, glancing at Allura and Lance, seated and absorbed in each other. “Does Allura know?”

“She does but I’m not sure she totally understands,” Shiro said, frowning, still watching them. “It’s partially my fault too. People get the scent sensitivity but they don’t get everything else. They don’t get how much the scent environment can affect our bodies. But it’s embarrassing to talk about it and it’s kind of private, so I don’t unless I have to.”

“I never talk about the other stuff if I can help it,” Keith muttered darkly, docking in the portafilter. “People don’t exactly think it’s normal, and it’s none of their business anyway. But then they won’t try and control their scents and help to regulate the scent environment because it’s ‘against nature’ and ‘not as we were intended’, and what are we supposed to do? Just randomly get sympatico heats and ruts and let our bodies yank us around all the time? It’s not like it wouldn’t benefit everyone if we all managed our scent output better.” 

“Isn’t it great how suppressants don’t work for us either?” Shiro said dryly.

“Thanks, I hate it,” Keith grumbled, steaming milk. “Lance knows the scent sensitivity stuff too, but nothing else.”

“I’ve been thinking of talking to Allura more about it,” Shiro admitted, tapping his fingers against his bicep. “You’ve probably seen the pins on her messenger bags, but she’s only ever gone out with alphas before this. It doesn’t guarantee anything, but she might have a better understanding of the gender spectrum than I’m giving her credit for.”

“I didn’t notice the pins actually,” Keith said, tilting his head in thought as he slowly drew a leaf into Shiro’s cortado. His movement began to slow with dawning horror. “But…”

“…you think Lance did,” Shiro finished, giving the drink Keith slid over to him a practiced, thousand yard stare. He took a deep, long sip, eyes scrunched closed. “Well. Shit. Any chance I could get a refill?”

“I’m making us both Irish coffees. I don’t think I can do this.”

The next time Allura came in, her pin arrangement had changed and she seemed strangely nervous. Shiro gave Keith a quick nod; he and Allura had clearly had a talk. But the damage was done, and weeks passed without any hint of a confession on the horizon, just increasingly stifled, pheromone-laden air that even other customers were beginning to notice. There was a fine line to walk between encouraging people to confess their feelings regardless of concerns over sexuality, and outright interference fueled by increasing worry over how other people’s drama would affect one’s health. Shiro and Keith were coming ever closer to tripping over that line.

“Lance,” Keith tried again, frustration crawling all over his skin as he rubbed at his nose and felt a worrying soreness in his gut. These days he wasn’t always sure the dampeners were even working anymore. The mechanical fan had made its debut a week ago and cheerfully hummed away in its designated corner. He scrubbed at the counter just that much harder. “Just tell her. Usually you don’t have a problem telling anyone what you think. If you’re that worried over whether she likes omegas, I can ask Shiro.”

“It’s not that, I asked her about it already when the pins on her bag changed,” Lance said, forlorn as he sorted out the cashbox. Keith very much wanted to interrupt and ask why they weren’t already dating if they had already gotten that far. “But…she’s gorgeous and successful, working at a headlining startup, while I’m just a barista getting through the jeweler’s program at the local community college. What do I have to offer her?”

“I don’t think that’s how relationships work,” Keith said, sighing. “And doesn’t that kind of ignore her feelings?”

“Only if she has them for me,” Lance replied glumly.

“You’ll know if you confess, right?” Keith retorted, annoyed. It felt as if Lance was ignoring every interaction from the past several months, and every particle of evidence being waved right under his nose each morning.

“Piss off, Keith,” Lance snapped, “I’m _so sorry_ my _feelings_ inconvenience you.”

“Right,” Keith drawled, looking pointedly at the mechanical fan humming away in a corner. Lance flushed and sank furiously back into indignant silence.

 _IT’S THE SELF ESTEEM SHIRO!!! RARRHGHGHGHG!!!!_ Keith texted Shiro half-furiously that evening. He couldn’t fault Lance for that, not really, it wasn’t like Keith couldn’t sympathize with feeling like a dumpster fire. That was practically the default true beta state. Feel like a freak for having the body you have, try to fix it by learning bunk pseudoscience theories, fail, make peace with yourself by riding to victory on the waves of self-love and self-acceptance, and profit. The fuzzy, affirming books just didn’t like to tell anyone the self-acceptance part basically took, oh, your whole life to accomplish and you ended up wanting to tell the medical establishment to go fuck itself. But there were few experiences more frustrating than feeling his body change because someone he knew couldn’t figure out his personal relationships and didn’t know how to keep it to himself.

 _Yippee_ , came Shiro’s text, exasperation dripping all over the words. Keith had never known anyone else who could pack single words with such overflowing exhaustion. _I’ve tried to talk to Allura but I think she’s annoyed because she thinks it’s none of my business EXCEPT IT DEFINITELY IS. I’m starting to feel paranoid and caught myself looking for scent sachets to secure my territory._

 _I think I’m starting to cramp_ , Keith typed in return, feeling the ache in his gut again, gritting his teeth. If anything, the increasing agitation in their conversations was even stronger proof that they were being affected by Allura and Lance’s amorous scents.

 _We need an intervention_ , Shiro responded, _The faster the better._

They planned to meet the next day for sympathy beers, maybe desolation shots, and to work out what to do next. But before they could hatch any sort of scheme, the weather interfered. Thanks to a sudden rainstorm, the morning crowd was particularly dense, packed into the small confines of the shop front and spectacularly impatient and crabby. The mechanical fan whirred away in the corner on its highest setting, and Keith had already opened all the windows he could. Lance, ever the customer service specialist, was doing his best to manage expectations and soothe the crowd, but it didn’t stop him and Allura from waving shyly at each other when she and Shiro joined the line. Predictably, Lance and Allura’s anxious, affectionate scents filled the room, creating a visible wave of agitation that swept through the café, prompting uncomfortable fidgeting, huffing, eyerolling, and audible noises of distaste.

Keith nodded to Shiro and Allura grimly from where he was kept busy at the espresso machine, abdomen giving another twinge. A wicked headache was already taking form, what with the potent cocktail of hostile scents that had already been permeating the café, now growing even more sour and tinged with Lance and Allura’s desire and yearning. With even more customers trickling in, he was on edge, wary of the situation becoming any more volatile. Which of course, it did.

Some asshole alpha released a growl in the middle of the line, sending other customers skittering away from him. And great, he was releasing even more angry pheromones into the air. “Hey cashier!” he yelled, “Stop flirting so much and hurry up! Some of us have been waiting here for forever!”

Riled, Lance batted his eyelashes and simpered like he always did before ripping knotheads a new one. “Oh, my apologies, _sir_ , but as you can see, there’s a good amount of people still in front of you. And wow, behind you too. See, that’s how a line works. There’s only two of us back and here and we’re doing our best to get to everyone in a timely manner. So, please kindly _wait your damn turn_ like everyone else.”

More people were backing away from the alpha as he turned red in the face, clearly ready to start a fight. Some of the customers who’d been taking their drinks in the café had even slowly stood up from their seats, whether to leave or prepare to get involved, Keith wasn’t sure. For his part, Keith finished pulling his most recent espresso shot, shouted out the order at the counter, and got ready to go toss the guy out into the rain on his ass.

The asshole was already stomping toward the counter threateningly. “You little – “

A pungent plume of rage was his only warning as Allura hauled him around by the shoulder and punched him in the face. In the line behind her, Shiro radiated pure shock, a hand buried disbelievingly in his hair. Some of the customers were definitely leaving through the back door now, a couple more had their phones out to record the drama.

The other alpha bellowed, swiping back, and a couple more customers huddled further back into the seating section, yelping in fright. Allura rattled out her own growl, low and menacing, and her scent acquired a deep, musty tone that had Keith locking eyes with Shiro as his stomach dropped. Lance swayed once, white-knuckled hand gripping the countertop, eyelids fluttering. It was as good a confirmation as any – Allura was in pre-rut.

Shiro lurched forward to separate Allura and the alpha, struggling to dodge blows and shove them bodily apart, all the while keeping his scent neutral and calm. Keith ran around the service counter to prop open the back door so those who wanted out could leave, and when he turned back around Lance had already hopped the counter and joined the fray, trying to shove the asshole alpha out the door and yank him away from Shiro and Allura all at the same time. Instead, his presence bolstered Allura, who tried to herd Lance behind her while lunging toward the asshole alpha with renewed vigor, getting in several hard jabs and a well placed kick to the stomach. Stuck in the middle of a rowdy, violent knot, Shiro was being buffeted in all directions, struggling against grasping, irrational hands and a new wave of protective, aggressive pheromones. The anger and frustration in his clenched jaw and furrowed brow were beginning to color his own rising, wavering scent, uneven in his continued attempts to keep control over himself. After several months of being buffeted by alpha pheromones, Shiro’s own alpha-leaning scent would only escalate the fight.

Gritting his teeth, Keith darted behind the brawl and began to pull Lance away gently, purposely releasing calming, soothing pheromones. Thanks to this mess, he was as omega-leaning as he was ever going to get, and if he could get Lance to help him they might be able to defuse the brawl. It was a good thing he’d thought to wear a pad today, he’d probably get whammied with the effects later.

“Come on, Lance,” Keith said, trying to sound comforting. “It’s just Keith, we’ll stay right here behind Allura. Alright?”

Lance blinked, eyes slightly unfocused, hand coming up around Keith’s wrist. “Keith?”

“Yeah, it’s Keith. We’re still in the shop and I need your help – “

He was cut off as Lance fell into him and they stumbled, falling to the floor. The asshole alpha had shoved Shiro hard enough to force Allura back and bump Lance as well, a domino effect that might have been funny in another situation. Piqued, Lance and Allura lunged back together, and all four of them went down in an angry, flailing heap, landing against the polished concrete with a loud crunching sound. Shiro let out a pained scream. Immediately stilling, Lance and Allura started to scramble away. The asshole alpha, still struggling, was sent skidding across the floor with a vengeful kick.

“Get the hell off of me,” Shiro hissed through his teeth, clutching at his too-limp right arm and lurching up into a seated position. A deep, menacing rumble crawled out of his throat and rolled through the shop. His scent definitely wasn’t calm anymore, but as angry as Shiro was he’d managed to keep it to a sort of restrained threat, a clear warning not to press him any further.

Keith took that as his cue. Sending out another blanketing wave of soothing calm, he got back to his feet and hoisted up the groaning alpha, pushing him out toward the door with little resistance. “We reserve the right to refuse service,” he said firmly, “We do not tolerate mistreatment of our employees. For the record, I’m the manager and what I say goes.”

Turning back around, he swept his gaze over the customers remaining. Quite a few of them had stayed, some of them only now sheepishly lowering their phones as he glowered. “Sorry about that,” he said succinctly, brooking no more argument. “Give us some time to wrap this up and we’ll be right with you.”

Allura and Lance were now hovering apologetically around Shiro, making sure not to bracket him or get too close. Shiro was breathing in and out deeply in a pattern, working on calming himself down, while he rolled up the sleeve of his henley gingerly. In a worrying sign, the forearm of his prosthesis had been twisted much too far around, what would be a broken arm on anyone else. The plating was severely bent in, with other dents and dings pockmarking the prosthetic.

“Are you okay, Shiro?” Keith asked, keeping his voice as even as he could, crouching at his side. “Are you hurting?”

“Yeah,” he grunted, brow wrinkled. “Doesn’t feel the greatest. I probably shouldn’t move too much.”

“We have some spare towels and things in the backroom,” Lance suggested meekly, guilt plastered all over his face, filtering lightly through the air. “We could make a sling and you can rest there as long as you like. Right, Keith?”

“Right,” Keith said, slowly offering Shiro a hand up. Shiro gave him a small, grateful smile, showing off that coveted dimple, and accepted Keith’s hand, his palm warm and calloused as ever.

The relative privacy of the break room was a relief compared to the shop front. There were no distraught scents here, just still air – only Keith and Lance were ever in here for any extended period. Such was the advantage of being a poorly staffed, family-owned coffee shop. Keith took in a deep, unsubtle breath of wonderfully untainted air before ushering Shiro into a chair, heading to the shelves to retrieve some towels, and sitting down next to Shiro to knot them together. As he carefully bent Shiro’s right arm and fashioned the makeshift sling around it, Allura gingerly sat down nearby. Lance slowly inched toward one of the remaining chairs, lips pursed and nervous.

“Shiro…” Allura started, hands fisted in her lap, remorse written in the slump of her shoulders.

“Please…please just listen,” Shiro sighed, ruffling his left hand through his hair. “Allura, Lance, your relationship, whatever it is at this point, is yours. It’s your private business, it is your feelings, it is your romantic and family history and whatever else and you are the ones who will decide how your relationship will be. That’s crystal clear. But your relationship also affects other people. It affects the scent environment, like what happened today, but it affects me too.”

Keith pat Shiro’s shoulder from where he’d secured the sling, rubbing his palm comfortingly across his tense back. As far as he was concerned, he and Shiro were a unit at this point, and Shiro shouldn’t have to put himself out there all on his own. He caught Shiro’s reluctant gaze, raising his eyebrows in question. “Can I put it really plainly?” Shiro nodded, smiling gratefully, weariness tucked into the corners of his mouth. “Okay, great. Shiro and I aren’t just scent sensitive, we’re both true betas. We’re physiologically affected by the scent environment around us. The longer you put out affection scents like that, without resolving your actual feelings, the more our bodies are going to change from our baseline, until we fall into sympatico. We don’t fall out of sympatico until the influencing scents are gone. Shiro and I are on the same page here, we get why it’s scary and we don’t want to pressure anyone into anything or make you guys feel like we’re emotionally blackmailing you or something. But at the same time? I’m getting cramps and wearing a fucking pad right now because I fully expect to start dripping slick in the next three hours because of what just happened.”

Lance spluttered, flushing, while Allura stared at them wide eyed, and it seemed, a little upset.

“Shiro, is this why…?” she trailed off, imploring, hands wringing.

“Yeah,” he sighed, leaning toward her, “It’s why I’ve been asking to borrow scent sachets. And why I’ve been kind of trying to not spend too much time out in the communal spaces of the apartment with you. I was trying not to talk about it because it’s embarrassing. But yes, we’re both true betas. Your scents have been breaking through the dampeners for months, and it’s been affecting the both of us.”

“It’s why you’re always pressuring me to confess!” Lance said, pointing an accusing finger at Keith.

“Yeah, but also because I don’t get why you keep waiting!” Keith retorted, flinging his arms in the air. “This isn’t exactly fun, you know. I don’t like getting headaches and stuff! You think I put out the fan for kicks?”

Lance groaned loudly, blushing to his ears, “Ugh, stop it with the fan!” Allura covered her reddening face with her hands.

“The mutual interest does seem to be there,” Shiro agreed, grinning and prodding Allura’s knee. “So we encouraged both of you to confess because it looked like things would get out of hand otherwise, and Keith and I really wanted to hold off sympatico if we could. If the fight was any indication, we weren’t wrong about that. I won’t pretend to know what’s stopping you, but seeing how this is affecting us, I don’t think it’s unreasonable for us to ask you both to talk things over as soon as possible. And if you really can’t resolve things…I’d like to ask that you both consider giving scent regulation a try.”

Allura exhaled slowly, pressing her hands against her cheeks. “Well. Things did get out of hand. I’m surprised you didn’t approach me about this earlier, but honestly...it’s embarrassing to think that the both of you know so much about…” Flushing again, she gave Lance a trailing glance that had him straightening his back, preening. She rested a hand on Shiro’s left shoulder. “Shiro, Keith, I’m sorry about the fight. Thank you for being honest about this. I’ve never considered learning scent regulation seriously, but I don’t think your requests are unreasonable, knowing where you’re both coming from. As for everything else…” She looked at Lance through her lashes, a smirk spreading across her mouth, the cloying, musty scent of her pre-rut beginning to rise. “I quite think that Shiro and Keith have given us an opportunity here. How about it, Lance? Shall we arrange a meeting over text?”

He stared at her in stunned silence for some seconds, but the smell of pleased yearning gave away his answer even before he nodded eagerly. “Y-Yes! Yes please! Let’s do that!”

Shiro didn’t even bother to hide the relieved, triumphant high-five he offered Keith, despite the scolding reactions they received. Oh, they’d still suffer the consequences of the debacle, it was too late for that, and there was still Allura’s oncoming rut to address, but for now at least, it seemed like there might be easier days ahead. Lance apologized to Shiro and Keith as well for the fight, and by the time Keith had left the break room, there were miraculously still some customers lingering in the front. He and Lance got through their orders and stayed open for another three hours to see if they could catch the lunch rush, before shutting down the shop for the remainder of the day.

“Take tomorrow off, we’ll need at least a day for the scents to air out,” he told Lance as he locked up. He’d made his peace with the possibility that The Beanery would be plastered all over social media the next day. What kind of impact it would have on business remained to be seen. “Or even better, meet Allura tomorrow.”

“We haven’t set a time yet!” Lance groused, stuffing his hands in his pockets, scuffing his boots against the ground. He kicked at a small rock, watching it roll away. “Hey Keith…I’m really sorry about this. I talked to you about Allura ‘cause you’d been there for so many of the times we’d met, and ‘cause you’re always so straightforward. I knew you’d just tell me what you thought, and I think I need that sometimes. But I didn’t mean to make any trouble for you or the shop.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Keith said, turning to Lance and clipping the carabiner of keys back on his belt loop. “It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just the world we’re in. If you were another person maybe you’d be mad at me and Shiro for adding pressure to your relationship, or for being true betas. Maybe you’d cut ties with us and say we were too high-maintenance and controlling. It’s just about owning up and being responsible for our own feelings.”

Lance boggled at him in mute horror. “Allura and I would never do that to you guys!” he exclaimed, as they started walking toward the bus stop together. 

“That’s why we told you,” Keith said. 

After such a stressful day, Shiro and Keith decided to keep their originally planned meeting anyway, rewriting their scheduled scheming into a small victory celebration. It was exciting to have Shiro on the doorstep of Keith’s studio after hours, to see him greeting Red with an abundance of ear rubs, the soft stretch of another dark purple band tee over his shoulders. It was also the first time that Keith had ever seen Shiro without his prosthesis. The knowledge that Shiro was trusting him with another moment of vulnerability was heady, warming him from head to toe. Possibly, that might have also been his omega leaning feelings talking, what with his own growing attraction and Shiro’s own current alpha leaning disposition, but he didn’t bother to analyze it. After such a harrowing start to a long day, he’d decided not to fret too much about his own feelings or scent around Shiro. He was taking Allura and Lance’s relationship as a lesson.

“How’s your arm?” Keith asked, setting several shot glasses on his dining table. Shiro had declared that he’d be bringing the liquor, and he was turning out a couple bottles next to the small stack of pizza boxes that had been delivered to Keith’s door just minutes before. Thankfully, Red had decided to nap, otherwise she would have definitely gotten underfoot in hopes of scraps.

“Not so bad, actually,” Shiro replied, wedging a round black bottle between his thick thighs for leverage and pulling out the cork with a pop. He poured some of the transparent, dark brown liquor into two of the glasses. “Most of the damage was to the arm itself and the connecting wires, but the port was totally fine. I’m a bit sore, but I didn’t even need to take any painkillers. I was going to have to bring the arm in next week for adjustments anyway, since it’s a prototype, so the timing could have been worse, too. Here, it’s spiced rum.”

Keith exchanged the glass for a paper plate, and they gleefully opened the first box of the pizza, taking a moment of silence to savor the smell of cheese and processed meat.

“I’m really glad you got thick crust,” Shiro sighed happily, lifting two large slices onto his own plate. “Whenever it’s thin crust I never feel full, I feel like some kind of pizza monster.”

“I pretty much only like thick crust,” Keith admitted, grabbing his own slices, “Deep dish is my favorite but it’s hard to find a place that does it well.”

“Have you been to Sal’s?” Shiro asked, leaning closer, like he was telling a secret. Keith shook his head. “Remind me to take you. It’s a bit further out, but they have a really good happy hour deal and I think they make the best deep dish in the city.”

Keith studied the curve of his boyish grin, the cursed dimple, the still charming flop of his bangs, the intent gaze that studied him back. “I’d like that,” he said, lips stretching into a smile.

“Then I’ll take you there,” Shiro said, grin widening, satisfaction and interest curling lazily from his skin. It couldn’t be anything other than intentional after Shiro’s display of control that morning. He lifted his shot glass in a toast. “Here’s to us,” he said, “The best beta buddies ever.”

Keith laughed and clinked their glasses together, making sure to keep eye contact as he let his own attraction seep into the air around them. “Here’s to us,” he echoed, “Partner.” He took a measured sip, pretending not to see how Shiro hastily raised his glass to hide the flaring of his nostrils, and took a bite out of one of the pizza slices. The sausage topping went together weirdly well with the rum. “Mm. May we never have to do that again. Your speech was pretty impressive. TV worthy stuff.”

“Speak for yourself,” Shiro said, making a face and taking a large bite out of his own slice. “I hate public speaking. _Hate_ it. I can do it but don’t like it. Thanks for handling the explanation, by the way. It’s been difficult trying to keep everything together.”

“No worries, I get it. It’s why I live alone,” Keith replied, waving his hand in dismissal, taking another sip from his shot to ward away the bad memories. “Ugh, I don’t even want to think about it. There’s no good way to ask a roommate if they’re on suppressants. Did you talk to Allura about pre-rut at least?”

Shiro nodded dispiritedly and slammed back his own shot. “Yeah,” he said, head drooping, refilling his glass. “Yeah, I talked to her about it. I think she’s mostly embarrassed about it, and kind of hurt that I didn’t say anything earlier, so we’ll probably have a proper sit down about it soon. Lots more talking in my future, especially since we’ll have to figure out what to do when she’s in rut and I fall into sympatico.”

Swallowing, Keith reached forward and curled his fingers lightly over Shiro’s wrist, letting his scent surround them. His voice felt like gravel in his dry throat. “Shiro…why don’t you stay with me?”

He was close enough to see Shiro’s eyes dilating, the surprised, deep brown stare conjuring more words from his throat. “You know the sympatico state isn’t actually rut or heat, we both know how this works. And I’m omega-leaning right now. We’ll be able to help each other when we get sick.”

Shiro’s fingers brushed lightly against his palm, and Keith watched dazedly as Shiro licked his lips, pink tongue lingering in the plush corner of his mouth, enveloped in the scent of Shiro’s want. “Keith…is that the best idea?” Shiro asked, cheeks reddened from alcohol or desire. “I’d love to, but…”

“I don’t want to be beta buddies,” Keith declared, gripping Shiro’s hand tightly. “I want us to be the protagonists.”

Shiro squeezed back, smiling. “Down with beta essentialism or whatever,” he said, leaning closer. “I won’t deny that I’d like to. Partner, you said. I like the sound of that.”

“And I like the sound of a deep dish date,” Keith murmured, tugging Shiro closer, pulling on his waist.

“Is that so,” Shiro teased, straddling Keith in his chair and cupping his cheek.

“Hell yeah,” Keith said, and kissed him. He tasted like spiced rum, like the pizza Keith had ordered for them, and the smell of his desire made Keith’s mind spin, heady and euphoric, his own scent surging to meet it. His lips were soft but chapped, his fingers were still warm and calloused, and the moan he released rattled in Keith’s ears like it could and would haunt him into next week, stoking the heat flowing through him with every heartbeat. Shiro’s body was grounding, reassuring, the thick thighs that Keith could dig fingers into, the steady rise and fall of his wide chest, the deft fingers that gripped at his nape and wound into his hair, to better angle him, to better make their mouths meet.

“This is so much better than pining in the bread aisle,” Shiro gasped when they finally separated, Keith’s arms around his waist, his mouth bruised and shining.

“The pining’s the worst part,” Keith said automatically, echoing the text he’d sent Shiro before.

Shiro beamed at him, throwing his arm around Keith’s shoulders. “Then let’s skip it,” he said, laughing, hugging Keith close. “Let’s just get to the accept stage. Let me stay with you, and I’ll take you out for pizza.”

“Such a gentleman,” Keith breathed, smiling, and brought Shiro in for another kiss, their scents mingling. For once, he hoped the smell would linger, their happiness and pleasure reaching every corner of his studio so when Shiro returned, he would breathe in and remember that here was a place where their passion had seeped into the wood, where he could be however he was and be accepted, where he wouldn’t have to hide. A place where Keith wouldn’t have to hide either, where they could talk about anything and everything they wanted. Where they could own up and speak up about their feelings.

As if Shiro could pick up all this from his skin, he touched their lips together, simple pressure and simple contact, brushing his nose against Keith’s, hovering there. His eyes were open, deep brown and clear, and he smelled only of contentment. Against Keith’s lips, he smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> me: what do betas do in A/B/O anyway  
> me:.....how aBOUT THAT eMotiONAL LABOR
> 
> guys i suck at writing romance ok pls just take this from me i dont wanna look at it anymore i cannot believe this is 10k
> 
> tbh I think if the situation was reversed Lance and Allura would've confronted Keith and Shiro about their pining way earlier, and Keith and Shiro would've been much worse about the whole thing. Allura is a app product manager, Lance will open his own jewelry business in some years, Shiro is a senior designer/jr. creative director, and Keith actually does work full-time with uncles Kolivan and Antok at The Beanery, but he's usually more in charge of the roasting operations and has a side hustle making chef-grade knives, which is how he met Hunk. 
> 
> Details on the A/B/O in this verse, though granted I didn't take too much time to think too deeply on it: everyone is intersex, a/b/o is the only gender, what we consider to be gender is mostly presentation. The world is about a 22%-55%-23% A/B/O population split, but "beta" is actually an umbrella term for several subgroups that were only better understood after the advent of genetic testing. So that 55% actually becomes 8% true beta, 23% neutral beta, 12% omega-positive beta, and 12% alpha-positive beta. 
> 
> Betas generally sensitive to scents on a more even and wide scale in comparison to alphas and omegas, who are more sensitive to specific types of scents and have diminished capability to detect some others. But thanks to genetic variance, this sensitivity to a wider range of scents can manifest in different ways. Neutral betas are basically the conventional idea of a beta. Historically speaking, omega-positive and alpha-positive betas were just considered lesser omegas and alphas that had odder cycles and diminished traits, experiencing uneven one to two day heats and ruts in much lesser intensity. They are often more insultingly referred to as subomegas and subalphas. 
> 
> True betas are, as mentioned in the fic, much more conditionally and constantly affected by their scent environment, generally possessing high scent sensitivity. Depending on the frequency, strength, and type of pheromones that they're exposed too, true betas can experience bodily changes in reaction, including sympathetic heats and ruts, often referred to as sympatico, which are not to the intensity of conventional heat and rut, but can manifest as week or monthlong fevers, fatigue, etc. Since it's all about the true beta's reception to the scent environment, each true beta's experience can vary very widely, and they were not historically treated very well. Knowledge of the beta subgroups is not as widespread and there can be difficulty in getting people to accept their existence.
> 
> Scent environments are imo kinda self explanatory, but basically make up the scents/pheromones that saturate a specific space and affect communication between individuals and social groups. Oversaturated scent environments can cause spontaneous arguments and brawls by affecting the moods and emotions of the people present in that environment.
> 
> Gender spectrum curriculum is sex education that aims to promote a better, more nuanced understanding of the genders, as well as sexuality, which includes the beta subgroups. Currently, alpha-omega pairings are the most revered, while alpha-alpha and omega-omega pairings tend to be considered unnatural and frowned upon. Betas are generally expected to pair up within their own dynamic. 
> 
> Scent regulation is basically the practice of learning to control your scent spread, including intentional release of specific scents, with the aim of reducing the amount of interference from the scent environment and therefore creating a more amiable and peaceable society. Conventional view says that this is an imposition upon personal liberties and individuals, who are meant to express themselves.
> 
> Scent sachets are a rut aid. Since ruts intensify feelings of protectiveness and territoriality, alphas can saturate sachets with their scent and leave them in places around their dwelling to bolster a sense of security, and stave off more defensive reactions and violent territorial displays.
> 
> Thanks for giving this oddball A/B/O fic a try! If you have any questions, feel free to leave them in the comments.


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